


Sherlock Holmes and the Strange Case of Jackman & Hyde

by theshinytardis (mojohwrites)



Category: Jekyll (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Embedded Images, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 09:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26849569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mojohwrites/pseuds/theshinytardis
Summary: Mr. Jackman needs Sherlock's help, but the detective wants all of the facts.





	Sherlock Holmes and the Strange Case of Jackman & Hyde

“Mr. Jackman, I have to say that I’m quite interested in your case,” Sherlock said, bringing his hands up to rest underneath his chin, his long fingertips interweaving. “However, if you desire my assistance, you will have to drop this pretense and tell me all of the facts.”

“What do you mean ‘all the facts?’ I just told you my story,” Tom replied, wondering just what this man was getting at.

“No, you only told me part of the story. I will need all of it. Including the fact that you killed a man.”

John shot a surprised and questioning glance at his friend. Sherlock’s keen eyes were staring at Jackman, examining his reaction. Tom had grown tense, his grip tightening on the water glass. His jaw set tightly.

“What… what do you mean by that?” He responded, the shake in his voice almost undetectable.

“Don’t play games with me Mr. Jackman, we haven’t the time.”

“How could you even—”

“Your hands are red and irritated, probably from scrubbing with a chemical that smells like bleach. Though your fingernails are completely clean - probably because you bite them - your watch contains small specks of blood that have dried inside the links. If the blood were yours it would only be on the surface, but this has penetrated inside the links, and that much means some serious bleeding. Your shirt is clean, but near the hem of your trousers there is a slight smear of blood, as well as some on your shoes. So you changed your shirt but not your pants and shoes.”

Sherlock looked over at Tom, “Correct me if I’m wrong.”

Instead he sat there quietly, not responding, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Although you walked here, you did not come the entire way on foot, else there would be more dust on your shoes from the nearby construction. Which also tells me that you didn’t come from the south, where the underground stop is located as well. So you drove here, but left the car behind, and as you approached I observed you throwing away what seemed to be a set of keys. There’s something in that car you don’t want anyone to know about, and based of my earlier observations, I’d have to say it’s a dead body.” 

With that Sherlock returned his gaze again to Tom, and the man didn’t know how to respond to that sharp, penetrating look. Feeling somewhat left out of this silent battle, John continued to observe the man, wondering if he should have his gun handy, just in case. However, before anyone spoke, the lights began to flicker strangely.

"What’s with the lights?” John mumbled quietly. The two continued to be locked in the silent staring contest, when unexpectedly Tom broke the silence with a small chuckle. As he reached for his inner jacket pocket, both John and Sherlock tensed. However, he only pulled out a small silver recorder and then flicked one of the buttons.

“I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but hopefully these men can help… _us_ … and help _our_ family. So don’t kill them.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed at this last statement, and John reached slowly for the gun located in one of the drawers of the nearby desk. The lights had increased in their sporadic flickering, leaving the room in almost complete darkness each they went out. All the while, Mr. Jackman sat there quietly, having placed the recorder on the arm of the chair. He seemed to be waiting for something to happen, and so Sherlock kept his eyes trained on him all the while. Then the lights finally went completely out, and did not return on for almost an entire minute. 

“Sherlock,” John whispered, his hands now gripping his pistol, “Sherlock, what’s going-” before he could finish his question, light flooded the room once again.

Something was different with Mr. Jackman—that was obvious, but John could not quite put his finger on _why_ exactly. He held the pistol near his leg to hide it, not wanting the man to see. Sherlock meanwhile continued to stare at Tom, having noticed distinctly the change in appearance: a different jawline and hairline, darker eyes, and he was now almost a few inches taller. Finally the mysterious man spoke.

“Heeellllloooo boys, Daddy’s done,” the man said, with a different voice and a twisted smile. “It’s _my_ turn to talk.”


End file.
